Free The Outcast Earl by Elle Q. Sabine Page A

his fingers and hands in a dance over her bosom that had her shuddering with a sudden, strange emotion.
    Abigail wanted . The tingling, warm sensation that erupted inside her when he was near was a desire for this , for the touch of his hands, the hard caress of his palms over her awakening nipples. She wanted him to push down her bodice and relieve the ache. She wanted him to touch her skin—her bare skin. Abigail pressed herself up into his hands, against his chest, and wondered if he would know how she felt, if it was normal to feel so desirous of a man’s kiss. She never had before.
    When he withdrew his hands and stood, she was actually—momentarily—indignant.
    He took three steps away from her before stopping, then stared out through the French doors at the far end of the room. Abigail inspected the damage to her skirt, inwardly sighed, and rose. It would need to be pressed, certainly, but he hadn’t ripped it.
    “As for the unavoidable business I mentioned last night,” Meriden offered after a moment, “I am afraid we do have some. You’ve signed the marriage contracts, of course, but I have the deeds for your signature now, and I wished for us to agree on some critical details of the wedding itself this morning. Prior to the accident, I had invited the rector and his wife to dinner tonight. They consented yesterday—I did not think to cancel until the middle of the night and it would be in poor taste now to do so.”
    Swallowing, Abigail forced herself to focus. “It will be odd, however, to have them to dinner while unmarried and entertaining alone. Aunt Betsy will obviously not be present.”
    “I’m sure they will excuse it upon learning the reason, and I have invited James Franklin to join us. It will make for an odd number, but should have been anyway with your aunt in attendance.”
    Abigail nodded. “I see no objections as long as the staff can cope with the added requirements, unless my aunt turns somewhat worse.”
    “As to the wedding, I will craftily admit that we have not had opportunity to discuss specific arrangements and that your aunt’s care has been our primary concern. However, I do not wish to entertain any discussion of delaying the actual wedding date. Indeed, I would like it to be next Tuesday. It will surely be sufficient for your aunt to mostly recover, and it is perhaps as long as we could stretch the lack of chaperone anyway without some repercussions to your reputation, which I would not countenance. Indeed, any delay in the wedding now would cause more gossip among both locals and those in London, as I’m sure you must recognise.”
    “I see your point. However, I do not wish to embark upon the process of wedding planning by myself, and really know very little of it, as I have never had one or planned one before. Aunt Betsy expected, and I needed her, to take charge of that part of the business.” Abigail’s voice was quietly practical and reasonable, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he took her objection in stride.
    He nodded, still facing away from her, and said, “I would not claim to be an expert on the matter, either. In any event, we can return to the subject tomorrow or the next day. I cannot see that a delay of a few days is likely to have significant impact, except in the issuing of invitations. My secretary has a list of local personalities to invite. It remains to provide him with your list and the invitations will be complete. Only you might think of what might be customary or pretty—I’m afraid my knowledge of weddings is limited to noticing pastel colours on otherwise vibrant persons and extravagant flowers, and the presence of a carriage to whisk the couple away to a large meal where they are required to play host and hostess.”
    The library they were in featured an elegant plaster ceiling, with geometric starbursts that created a lovely pattern. Abigail studied it thoughtfully before saying, “You mentioned the marriage contracts, before. You